


My Kryptonite

by JaguarPF



Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, DCU (Comics), DCU (Movies), Henry Cavill - Fandom, Man of Steel (2013), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 09:23:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4516491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaguarPF/pseuds/JaguarPF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack, a costume assistant at Warner Bros. Studios, finds himself at the hands of an interesting encounter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Kryptonite

Being at the studios feels like being in a thousand different worlds at once, all stuffed into a few massive hangars. The whole universe exists here. And if anyone wants to argue that it doesn’t, we can create it in a matter of days. All of imagination exists within our reach and at our fingertips. It almost makes us gods, in a way. The thought of gods is quite appropriate for what the studio is working on right now, too. A movie about a god. A god among men. A god who fights for the sake of mere men. He’s near-invulnerable, and he is perfect in every conceivable way. He’s the all-American Boy Scout. Well, he’s about as American as an alien from a dead planet can possibly be. We’re supposed to be shooting a scene inside of a building that’s falling apart, but something is wrong with the IMAX camera, so we’re calling it a day. I’m not even needed here, but I always come in to watch him work. I am fascinated by him. I am thrilled by his presence, and his illuminating charm. I look forward to work, every day. And I look forward to the end of his shoots even more. Mr Snyder calls it, and I run back to the changing room. It’s my turn to put a helping hand in.

As always, I get into the room and I pull myself together. I’ve seen him a thousand times, now. On this shoot, and for the first movie. However, I can just never tire of him. Try as I might, there is something eternal about that spark in his eye, and that genuine revelation in his smile. I’m just a costume assistant. When the credits roll, people walk away before my name even shows up. No one knows who I am when they watch these movies. I am as irrelevant as it gets. In anyone else’s eyes, that would be seen as incredibly depressing. And, perhaps, it would be. But it is not for me. It has not been since I was given this gift; since I was allowed to be the sole aide who ensures the ease of getting in and out of the suit. Holding that blue and red almost feels like holding the might of America in my hands. It feels like being at the helm of millions of dreams and hopes. But it’s not the suit that I desire. It is what lies behind it. It is the touch that I have lusted after for years now.

I am just an assistant, and I stand there and watch as a god among men walks into his change room. He seems a little disappointed; I guess he was looking forward to today’s scene. Our eyes meet as I stand at attention, and he chooses to don one of those incredible smiles of his. And, my god, I could swear that Mr Cavill’s smile would light up even the darkest of hearts, the darkest of rooms. All that I wish, is that I could be given a chance to make him feel the way that he made me feel. I think about the dichotomy of it, as he walks over to me. How weak he makes me feel, because I don’t feel worthy of his perfect presence. How strong he makes me feel, because I am always about to break through walls just for a light rub of his skin. The character he plays gets his strength from the sun. Mr Cavill is my sun. Except that, instead of strength, he awakens me sexually. I always thought that it was impossible for me to feel such strong desire until the day he laid hands on me and thanked me, looking so directly at me that I could feel my soul melt.  
“Short day, today?” I say nervously, trying to act as casual as I possibly can, and failing horribly at it. 

“Quite a bit short’r than I’d prefer, unfortunately, yeah” he smiled. What is it about the way that British men say ‘yeah’ that makes it so fucking hot? One little word and my hands are shivering as they unclip the red cape from his shoulders.

He stretches his neck as I make my way behind him and pull the cape off. I throw it onto the couch and start to pull at the zipper that travels from the back of his neck, all the way down to his lower back. I can never help it – I can never not stare. For a moment, I am the single member of an audience that gets to see that precious tush up close and personal. It’s so pert and it’s so ready. I am as ready as I’ll ever be when I look at it. A bead of sweat follows my hand as it slowly drags the zipper down. He arches his strong back with my movement. We are in sync, but only in my dreams. I want to be the reason he arches his back. I want to be the reason he groans as he just did. I take a deep breath and maintain my composure. I’ve done this a thousand times before. It shouldn’t still be so hard for me. I walk over to face him again.

The part that always gets me, this is it. When I move in so close to his body, so close to his face, to grab the suit over his shoulders and pull it down. For a second, we are obliged to stare into each other’s eyes as I put my hands over his shoulders, like a lover preparing his warm embrace. His eyes are a dirty blue, like a deep ocean painted in charcoal. They are a deep ocean, and I am but a diver, longing to swim deep inside of them – deep inside of him. He looks at me as if everything is normal. He looks at me as if I am not a mere mortal touching the shoulders of a god-like creation. His determined eyebrows barely move, and he does not frown, despite the fact that my hesitating hands have given him all the reason in the world to frown. He purses his lips, and mine quiver at the sight. 

“Somethin’ wrong, Jack?” he says, his mouth slightly open. 

My breathing is heavy, now. My eyes flutter as I try to think of a quick response. My voice breaks as I give a weak and unconvincing, “No, sir.”

“You don’t have to call me ‘sir’ anymore, Jack. We’re friends, now, yeah? Just call me Henry.”

Great, I got friendzoned by perfection. I nod and continue to pull the Man of Steel’s beautiful blue costume off. It slides off of his shoulders easily and begins to bare his powerful chest. He’s got chest hair like a bear – a bear that I could stroke for hours. The closest I ever come to touching him intimately is when I hold each hand and pull his sleeves down. It’s the last step that he really needs my help with. It’s both invigorating and sad at the same time. I want to touch him forever. I sigh audibly as my part is done, and I turn away to let him take care of the red boots and blue pants. That bulge that the suit gives him always gets to me. I’ve never managed to sneak a peak of what lies underneath. I never get to see it before he puts a fresh pair of pants on. 

“Jack?” I hear him say. 

“Yes?” I respond, still facing away. 

“Carol said that I’m looking a little too big. What do you think?”

This is my queue. I hope to finally get my chance to see what I never could. I turn around to look. The image before me is one that I have only ever imagined, and one that I have never even seen in magazines. He’s standing there, only in his pale-grey Jockeys, and he’s looking straight at me. His body could have been carved by God himself. His pectorals are standing strong, like a brick wall. The suit could not do justice to the perfection that is his abs, and the pure masterful sculpting of his arms and legs. Fuck Carol. Carol can suck my dick. There is nothing wrong with this image. Right now, I don’t even know who Carol is, and I don’t care. 

“You’re perfect, sir. I mean, Henry. I disagree with the miss.” My hands are shaking as if an earthquake is making its way through my body and out of my fingertips. 

“Yeah, you think? Why do you look so nervous?” He steps forward and I almost run away. I almost run away to save myself. I almost run away to save my job. I almost run away, just to save him from my hungry hands, and my tightening pants. I almost run, but I don’t. 

“I,” my voice breaks, “I couldn’t say, Henry.”

He is mere inches away from my face now. My anxious breaths bounce off of his chest and straight back at me. I have stood in the presence of many men, and in much closer proximity, but none of them have made me feel the way that he is making me feel. Jelly does not justify how malleable my legs feel right now.

“Is there somethin’ you’re not telling me, Jack?” he asks, as if he does not know. He knows exactly what’s wrong. He knows the power that he has over me. 

If I lose this job, there’s no telling where I’ll end up. There’s no telling what will become of my future. There’s no telling how I’ll wake up every morning knowing that I won’t see his face anymore. However, on the other hand, there’s also no telling that I’ll ever have this chance again. I see no guarantee that he will ever stand before me so bare again. So, I take my chance. For what it’s worth, and for all of the fear that I can swallow, I take my chance.

“I can swallow it all,” I mumble stupidly. Fuck, that was supposed to be in my head, not out loud. I am such an idiot.

“Why don’t you always display that level of confidence, Jack?” he says. Except that this time, it’s not his just words that move me. It’s not just his voice that touches me; it’s his fingers, as they gently trace over my quivering lips. I cannot speak. How could I speak?

“A shortened shoot means more time to explore, I’d say.” At this point, I’m barely listening to him. I am just watching. I am just stunned. The universe has me at its fingertips, and I dare not interrupt. I dare not challenge those determined eyebrows. 

He frowns a sexy little frown and pulls me closer. And then, before I have the time to process it, I feel two worlds collide. His thin lips are pressed against mine and, at first, mine are dead against his. But my awakening comes quickly. Before I know it, I am returning the favour, and I am revelling in it. Everything beyond my closed eyes explodes into a billion colours, and it is the most beautiful and erotic thing that I have ever experienced. Everything about the dance of our tongues is perfect. In my head, we’re a million miles ahead of this moment. In my head, I am his, and he is taking full charge of my body. In my head, he’s got me bent over the arm rest and he’s owning everything that I am. In my head, I can feel him building inside of me, ready to administer a hot filling that I’ll savour for days to come. And then I feel it; I feel what this perfection could only do to me.   
It’s strange, because I was so nervous that I missed the point where I got hard in my pants. But that doesn’t matter, because I’m already hitting the point of no return. Before I get a chance to pull away, I can feel my khaki stage-hand pants fill with a hot load that arrives way too soon. My body shakes, and I almost bite his lip as I struggle to stand straight – as I try to cross my legs to hide the shame. However, it’s too late. My groaning sigh makes it way too obvious that the worst has happened. It’s over; I fucked up. 

“I guess I’ll be making it home on time,” he quips, licking his lips as he smiles. He nods at my crotch, and proceeds to turn away. 

I want to say something clever. I want to respond and hold his attention for just a second longer. But how can I? This whole moment has rendered me mute.

“You’ll want to change out of those pants.”

“I’m well aware of that, Boy Scout!” I bark back. And it’s weird, because it almost sounded angry. But I’m not angry. Well, I’m not angry at him – I’m angry at myself.

He chuckles for a second, and the sound is what I imagine angels sound like. “If you manage to be so headstrong next time, maybe you’ll be ready to handle just what this Boy Scout can do to you.”

I close my eyes and sigh deeply to calm myself. I’ll have to deal with this, somehow. I’ll have to face him again tomorrow and pretend that I am not somehow changed. But I am changed; I just had a close encounter of the most amazing kind. And I fucked it up. I breathe out and then, like a broken line, his words actually hit me. He said next time. He was not entirely put off by it. I still stand a chance. 

“Next time?” I say out loud, trying not to sound too desperate. But he’s gone. He’s left the room. And I’m just standing here, my pants covered in jizz, my hand outstretched towards nothing. 

Fuck.


End file.
